 | Farm ballads |  |
121
THE CHRISTMAS TREE.
Where grows the Christmas tree—
The green, deep-rooted Christmas tree?
By what brave toil, in what rich soil,
Can spring the blooming Christmas tree?
Is it from prairies broad and deep,
Where future harvests softly sleep,
And flocks of acres, far and free,
Lie level as a waveless sea?
Or is it where a breeze-skein twines
Between the lofty-plumaged pines?
Or where sweet, stealthy Languor roves
Among the Southland orange groves?
Or blooms it best 'mid city homes,
With Wealth's unnumbered spires and domes?
Or is it where, through changeful day,
The mountain shadows creep and play,
And swift a gleaming sun flood rides
Along the tall cliff's dappled sides?
High grows the Christmas tree,
The sweet, love-planted Christmas tree—
Where'er extends the hand of friends;
Wherever heart-caressings be.
The green, deep-rooted Christmas tree?
By what brave toil, in what rich soil,
Can spring the blooming Christmas tree?
Is it from prairies broad and deep,
Where future harvests softly sleep,
And flocks of acres, far and free,
Lie level as a waveless sea?
Or is it where a breeze-skein twines
Between the lofty-plumaged pines?
Or where sweet, stealthy Languor roves
Among the Southland orange groves?
Or blooms it best 'mid city homes,
With Wealth's unnumbered spires and domes?
Or is it where, through changeful day,
The mountain shadows creep and play,
And swift a gleaming sun flood rides
Along the tall cliff's dappled sides?
High grows the Christmas tree,
The sweet, love-planted Christmas tree—
Where'er extends the hand of friends;
Wherever heart-caressings be.
What bears the Christmas tree—
The bright, rich-fruited Christmas tree?
What gather they, expectant-gay,
Who throng around the Christmas tree?
Leaves picked by love-instructed art
From off the branches of the heart;
Fruits culled from every tree and vine
Where zephyrs fly and sunbeams shine.
Whate'er can brighten to our gaze
The trembling dawn of childhood days;
Whate'er can feed more clear and high
The flame of youth's expectant eye;
Whate'er can make more richly good
The blood of man or womanhood,
Or bid old age look smiling round
At gems of earth-joy newly found;
Whate'er can say, “While strength endures,
My life has love and help for yours.”
Rich glows the Christmas tree,
The heart-protected Christmas tree—
With tokens dear that bring more near
God's earth-lent love to you and me.
The bright, rich-fruited Christmas tree?
What gather they, expectant-gay,
Who throng around the Christmas tree?
Leaves picked by love-instructed art
From off the branches of the heart;
Fruits culled from every tree and vine
Where zephyrs fly and sunbeams shine.
122
The trembling dawn of childhood days;
Whate'er can feed more clear and high
The flame of youth's expectant eye;
Whate'er can make more richly good
The blood of man or womanhood,
Or bid old age look smiling round
At gems of earth-joy newly found;
Whate'er can say, “While strength endures,
My life has love and help for yours.”
Rich glows the Christmas tree,
The heart-protected Christmas tree—
With tokens dear that bring more near
God's earth-lent love to you and me.
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